


Lestrade

by bbkris10



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: ;), F/M, just your typical lestrade/reader fic, or is it????, ur gonna wanna read this one all the way through
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 22:47:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13374675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbkris10/pseuds/bbkris10





	Lestrade

You walk past all the cubicles in the police department holding an important file. You want Greg to approve it before you take a team to the crime scene. You knock twice on his door frame and walk in without waiting for an answer. You and your boss were best friends before either of you got into this field of work, so informality isn't unusual for you.  
"Hey Greg, could you-" You stop when you see him sitting slumped at his desk. His head is in his hands and he is breathing deeply. You close the door behind you and rush over to his side. "Hey, what's wrong?" you ask, placing a hand on his arm. He turns away from you and shakes his head. "C'mon, its okay, you can tell me." You say softly, sliding your arm across his shoulders so that you are holding him in a sort of half hug. You wait patiently for a few long moments, tracing your thumb up and down his shoulder encouragingly. He lets out a big breath, wipes his eyes and turns to look at you. You stifle a gasp. His face is a mask of the after effects of crying. His eyes are bloodshot, his cheeks are covered in red splotches, and his hair is ruffled from worrying hands.  
"I'm just…" he mutters, leaning into your shoulder "I'm just so tired of everybody leaving." Your heart breaks right there. Here, reduced to a whimpering pile of genuine sorrow leaning into you is Greg Lestrade. Greg Lestrade who leads the police force to murders, suicides, and torture scenes and doesn't cry. Greg Lestrade who always stands tall and strong and leads with confidence. Greg Lestrade who is always positive and finds the good things in people. Greg Lestrade who is leaning on someone else and letting his demeanor down.  
Nobody else needs to see this. There are plenty of officers in the department looking to break him so that they can declare him unfit and take his position.  
"Come on." You say reassuringly, standing "Let's get out of here. How does tea at my place sound? We can talk more there." He gives you a helpless look from his seat. You give him a mischievous smile. "Sophie will be very happy to see you." you say, referring to your fluffy grey cat that you know he has a soft spot for. He stares at you for a few tense seconds before breaking the smallest of smiles.  
"Well in that case I suppose I can't say no." You laugh and help him up.  
"I'll go tell Donovan to take over for the day." you say, knowing he won't leave his ship without a captain.  
"Thank you." He whispers. You know that it is for saving him from looking this weak in front of everyone. You nod and leave. You find Donovan and give her the plan. She is suspicious and asks several questions, but you blow them off with a story about how you and Lestrade have to go scope out a minor case and he wants to keep numbers small. Thankfully she falls for it, and you return to Greg to find him attempting to rub his hair down to no avail. You giggle, and he drops his hands suddenly, a blush rising on his cheekbones.  
"I was just-"  
"There's no getting out of this one." you say jokingly, taking his arm and leading him out the back door to the parking lot where your car is waiting. He laughs a little and buckles into the passenger seat.  
The drive to your apartment is short. You lead him up the drive and unlock the door. He hangs his coat on the rack habitually, having been over several times.  
"Cinnamon, herbal, or mint?" You ask, already knowing what his answer will be.  
"Cinnamon tea would be lovely, thanks." You start the kettle and peek into the living room to see him settled into his side on the couch. (He established it as his side after you tried to sit there on his sixth visit for movie night. You let him.) He is patting the cushion next to him and clicking his tongue at Sophie to get her to join him. She jumps into his lap and rubs her head against his palm as he scratches her ears. You smile and step back in the kitchen when you hear the kettle whistle. You pour two big mugs of tea, add cream, and carry them on a tray to the living room. You set them on the coffee table and sit down on your side of the couch as he takes a sip from his mug. (His is brown, yours is blue) Sophie sidles up to you and curls up on the cushion between you. Greg settles his tea in his lap with both hands wrapped around the mug and stares down at it.  
"So..." you say, tentatively looking at him "Is this about your parents?" His eyes fall shut at that and his breath hitches. You wait silently for him to be ready to answer. You don't want to push this, or he won’t talk at all. His breath evens out. Slowly, he nods. "Among other things." You nod. He swirls his tea in his mug.  
"Yes, they abandoned me. But you already know all that." He put his mug back on the tray and waves his hand as if this is insignificant. "But lately it just seems as if it's everyone. Everyone I let get close to me. Everyone I open up to. I just-" he gets choked up then and a tear escapes. "I'm sorry." he says shakily, "I'm just tired of it all." You move Sophie, who mewls in protest, and slide over next to him. You tuck your feet up on the couch and wrap your arms around him. His head nestles into your shoulder and he properly starts crying. You feel his strong frame shake against you and you hold him tighter.  
"Hey," you whisper into his hair "It's okay. You're okay." His arm reaches around you and he clutches your shirt in his fist and pulls you closer. "Who's leaving you, Greg?" You murmur. You rub his back in an attempt to settle him. "Who's leaving you?" You give up and wrap both of your arms around him and rock him slowly back and forth whispering that he's okay over and over. He cries for a long time and you cannot believe that this level of emotion is coming from your Greg. You have been best friends with him for four years, and the only times you've ever seen him cry were when he told you about his parents leaving him as a child, and once during a ridiculously depressing chick flick. You notice that he's barely shaking and you can't hear his sobs anymore. You turn your head and see the light fading out the window. He'd been crying for almost an hour.  
"Sherlock, Leigh, David, John, Karissa…" he lists.  
"Who?" He looks up at you.  
"Sherlock Holmes, to start."  
"Oh." you say. Sherlock had been a regular at work for the longest time. Nobody but Greg could stand him, but he was a genius. Greg truly loved that man as a friend, and no one ever could tell why. Who would want to be mates with an arrogant freak? But when Sherlock jumped off that building last year with no warning, it had crushed Greg. The "freak" jokes stopped immediately and it was dead silent in the department whenever Greg walked by. Sherlock’s death had affected everybody, but with the exception of John, it hit nobody harder that Greg. Greg pours his soul into his relationships, so he had even been distant towards you for a few weeks after the incident.  
"And consequentially, John." You purse your lips. John, even a year later, associated with no one but Mrs. Hudson his patients at work. Greg had tried to talk to him on several occasions, but John emotionally couldn't take it. Once Greg had knocked on the familiar door of 221 B only to have John open it take one look at him, start crying, nod, and shut the door. There went another one of his best mates.  
"Leigh decided she hated me over one disagreement and David quit." These were two of his close coworkers.  
"Karissa hasn't left you." you say, referring to his beloved older sister.  
"I got a call from her roomate right before you walked in my office telling me that she got indefinitely deployed last week. She didn't even call to say goodbye."  
"Maybe it was time-sensitive and she couldn't." you suggest. He shrugs dejectedly.  
"Seems like she could have made time to tell her brother goodbye."  
"I'm so sorry." you say.  
"Thanks." he mumbles. "So there you have it. Everyone. Is. Gone." One of your hands finds its way to his hair and you turn his head up to you with the other.  
"Look at me." He lifts his eyes to yours reluctantly.  
"When have I ever left you?"  
"...Never." he admits.  
"Never." you affirm. "And I never will. Do you hear me, Greg? I will never leave you. Like it or not, you're stuck with me. I'm not going anywhere." He reaches his hands up and cups your face.  
"But you will. Eventually, you will...and then I really will have no one."  
"That's where you're wrong" you say. "I will stay with you forever if you'll let me." He smiles a little and strokes your cheek with his thumb. It makes you shiver. "I won't leave because-" you catch yourself. You can't tell him now. Keeping it in all this time just to blurt it out now? You can't.  
"Because why?" he whispers, searching your eyes. You didn't realize how close he was until you feel the warmth of his breath on your face. You can't stop yourself when he looks at you like that. You reach up to intertwine your fingers with the ones cradling your face.  
"Because I love you."  
"Don't," he says moving forward almost imperceptibly. He is infuriatingly close to you. Close enough that the smallest of movements would cause your faces to touch, but yet not touching at all. "Don't say that just because you feel sorry for me.” You get closer and your noses touch.  
“If I only felt sorry for you” he touches his forehead to yours, “Would I do this?” You lean in and capture his lips with yours. His hands tangle themselves in your hair and you smile. You press one more gentle kiss to his lips and slowly pull away, eyes still closed.  
“Y/n?” he whispers, his mouth brushing yours.  
“Yes?” you answer.  
“There’s a whale on your ceiling.” You look up.  
“Yes. Yes there is.” The whale swishes its tail.  
Your eyes sneak back to Greg’s and you kiss him again.  
The whale falls from the ceiling and eats you both.  
“That’s odd.” Lestrade says as you are digesting. “I though whales were herbivores.”


End file.
